


"Locked in heart-shaped boxes"

by MoxFirefly



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU, M/M, past ambrollins, wybrose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7599742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoxFirefly/pseuds/MoxFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Seth was like the sun. Bright, burning and willing to kill you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It's always at the lowest, at the bottom of the pit that you can appreciate the darkness. The night. The moon.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bray was like the moon. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Locked in heart-shaped boxes"

**Author's Note:**

> Something I started and then stored away for a while. Dug it up and finished it, wish is rare.
> 
> Enjoy.

That was the problem.

Seth was like the sun. Bright, burning and willing to kill you.

He was more than ok with all of the bad he did. All the sickness he could cause. Every burn. 

Dean still feels it, eating at him like a cancer. Left his body scarred and his heart pulled from his chest. Spit and chewed up. He'd sought his revenge, made sure it was cold but no matter how much he tattooed his knuckles on Seth Rollins' face, it would never be _enough_. It was all a bloody affair with wishful thinking stuck in the edges. For all of Dean's screaming and silent begging, peace never came and the nights were more like days. Seth had fucked up everything, all the stability that had agonizingly slowly built up had been stripped away and abandoned. 

The safety net was tucked away and he had met the bottom of the floor with a sickeningly loud _thud_.

This was bottom, covered in cigarette smoke and could've been's. Things that nurse the pain, numbed it enough to make him functional but never whole. All Dean wanted was that familiarity of comfort, a warmth that kept him at bay. But no, Seth liked building things as much he loved destroying them.

And he'd destroyed this so beautifully.

It's a year gone when Dean sees him since the day everything fell apart. Seth's beautiful as ever and Dean's sick to his stomach. _I don't love you like I used to_ echoes in his chest along with this heart. Seth looks in his direction once during the whole thing. Brown eyes big but theres nothing there behind them. He looks into Dean's eyes and probably past his very fucking soul and theres nothing. Not an awkward wave or a forced smile. 

Invisible.

None existent. 

Seth was like the sun after all. Burning. Blinding. Willing to kill you.  
___________

Licking wounds and cauterizing them after a year because Dean's always secretly hoped as much as he outwardly expressed his hate, that Seth cared. That he'd spare him something so little as a look, an acknowledgment of all their years spent glued together.

But nothing.

It's always at the lowest, at the bottom of the pit that you can appreciate the darkness. The night. The moon.

Bray was like the moon. 

It was one of those chance encounters Dean described. Lost soul meets Wandering soul. The stuff of books with ambiguous endings. Bray had a way of understanding Dean's self destruction in a way that not even Seth himself could. He was willing to self destruct with him. He never once was afraid to come down to the pit with Dean and lay beside him.

Sometimes Dean didn't know what to do with such company, such a willing participant in all of this god forsaken loathing. Bray would watch as well as intervene. He had that ability amazingly, he could keep Dean inches away from that _ledge_. It felt odd, not unpleasant at all, to just have somebodies fingertips itching for his arm to pull him back. Dean didn't quite understand how Bray just _knew_.

"You've ever been this low?" Dean had asked one night, feet propped up on the dash board of a truck.

"Haven't we all?" Was Bray's response, head resting on the window. Through half lidded eyes he could see Dean's head working out too much.

"Not you man, you're like stone. Nothin's fucked you up." Dean's head turns, eyes studying the other man.

"I've been low, I've been in the dirt…how'd you think we met so perfectly?" It's hushed that last bit, with Bray lifting his head from the window. He leans in close to Dean, gives the worn out leather a kiss right where his shoulder is.

Roadside confessions in the dead of night. Dean feels his stomach light and weird but filled at the same time. Something he hasn't felt in a while and yet here he it is…

He doesn't feel alone.  
____________

It's all left behind in that back seat, with the humidity and the slight breeze that ventures in. 

With Dean's arms around Bray's neck and his bare skin hoping to be glued to the other's.

There's love with how those nails write on his back, with the way Bray's lips linger at his pulse and the whispering of a _good fuck_ well promised sticking to Dean's collarbones. He can't help but clench around the cock inside of him, the air too thick and a dizzying mess in his soul as he makes sure to devour Bray via kiss. 

Bray's just like the moon.

Illuminating his darkness, at his smallest, at his strongest. Constant.

It feels all too real. Bray's hands gripping him hard, guiding him down slow and hard. Dean's mouths is agape, begging for that none existent air as Bray hits a spot that sends him into a spiral. He wants to cum but he wants to feel this for the longest of times. Put into memory every bit of how Bray feels, looks, sounds…

Dean needs all of this. Bray resting his forehead on his shoulder, fingers digging into Dean's rear and a groan he tries to swallow when Dean digs his nails into his scalp. A gentle violence. 

He cums like that, steadily fucking himself down onto Bray's cock. It leaves him shaking, body trying its best to wrap itself around Bray. 

Breathing in one another's haggard breaths.

 

Dean's ready to live with the _moon_.


End file.
